


Fancyman

by schmulte



Series: Fancyman [1]
Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Dad! Henry, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, M/M, New Girl au, Suit Kink, Teacher! Alex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:22:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29817321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schmulte/pseuds/schmulte
Summary: Alex is is a first grade teacher doing great, until one of his student's fathers comes in with a complaint. Based off Fancyman pt. 1 from New Girl.My contribution to RWRB 1000 Fics Celebration!
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Series: Fancyman [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2193018
Comments: 16
Kudos: 95
Collections: 1000th RWRB Ficstravaganza Celebration!!!!





	1. Fancyman, pt. 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [captainegg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainegg/gifts).



> continuing my legacy of stupid aus, one fic at a time

On the desk of Mr. Alex Claremont-Diaz, there are a few items that one would expect to belong to an average first grade teacher; a bowl of spare pencils and chalk, a scribbled-on lesson plan, a little pink sign with his name on it, written in crayon. Buried beneath all the picture books and colored pencils, however, are some things not quite as common. Among them is a tattered copy of _It Feels Good to be Yourself: A Book About Gender Identity,_ a box of temporary tattoos, and a thirty-two ounce thermos filled to the absolute brim with coffee. 

The teacher behind the desk looks equally disheveled. 

He doesn’t look up when Henry walks in, even after a warning knock on the open classroom door. He’s buried in a journal, writing with a pen decorated with drawings of dinosaurs. His glasses are dangerously low on his nose, and his cheek is decorated with a single rainbow sticker. Henry knocks again, this time on the corner of the desk, and clears his throat. 

Alex looks up to see a tall, broad-shouldered Adonis in a perfectly tailored suit that stands out significantly against the backdrop of the messy classroom. He stands with his right hand in his pocket, the sleeve of his suit jacket ridden up ever so slightly to reveal a large, shiny watch that probably costs more than Alex’s car. His left hand reveals long, slender fingers, tapping lightly on the side of his pant leg, and no wedding ring. He smiles tightly, the wrinkles not quite reaching his eyes. 

“Hello,” he says cooly, in a posh accent that would put Mr. Darcy to shame. “Is this a bad time?”

“No,” Alex chokes out, clearing his throat after his voice breaks a little. He stands up from his shabby desk chair and extends a paint-stained hand. “Not at all. You must be Sophie’s dad.”

They shake hands- Henry’s are large and warm, and Alex’s are cool to the touch and surprisingly soft. Neither party comments on this, but they both notice the effects significantly. 

“Yes, Henry Wales, pleasure to meet you.”

“Alex Claremont-Diaz,” he gives a nervous sort of smile, “I’m sorry for the mess, we got a little carried away with our arts and crafts, and then Mrs. Chen in the fifth grade classroom needed some help getting thirty condoms off cucumbers which was surprisingly hard…”

He looks back up to see Henry staring blankly at him. He blinks, then adjusts his tie. “Sorry, just got off a flight from London. I might be a little out of it.”

“Oh, London!” Alex says with the most horrible English accent Henry’s ever heard. “Did you have a busy sch...sched...did you have fun?”

“No, actually, I was supervising a merger.”

Alex chokes out a surprised laugh. “Oh. Fair enough.” Then, quickly changing the subject, “you wanted to talk about Sophie’s language, right?” He perches himself on the edge of his desk and gestures for Henry to take a seat. He tries his hardest not to laugh at the image of this uptight businessman on a purple bean bag chair. 

“So, I’ve had the speech and language pathologist come in and observe Sophie and she didn’t see much room for improvement. Your daughter is very well-spoken, especially for a child her age.”

“Oh no,” he gives a sort of chuckle. “You misunderstand me, that’s not my concern.”

“Oh? What can I help you with, then?”

“You see,” Henry shifts awkwardly in the bean bag chair. “I’m sorry, is there another chair?”

“Oh, um- yeah, the feelings chair over there, you can just drag it up here.”

Henry raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “The _feelings_ chair?”

Alex frowns. “Yes. It’s where the kids can go if they’re having a big feeling, so everyone knows not to talk to them until they’re ready.” Henry makes no more comments about the feelings chair, but Alex is still appropriately miffed by the prior insult. 

“As I was saying,” Henry continues. “The issue is not with Sophia’s manner of speech. It’s with the language she’s using. That is to say, she’s been speaking Spanish around the house.”

Alex bristles. “It’s common knowledge that this classroom uses Spanish, Sign, and English. I want the kids to have as many ways to express themselves as possible.”

“Yes, well--” Henry adjusts himself in his seat again. Alex seriously considers strangling him with his necktie. “While I appreciate the effort and the thought behind it, Sophia will be opting out of Spanish lessons from now on.”

Now it’s Alex’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Second languages are valuable, of course, but not a necessity. She’ll spend that time with her tutor, instead, to work on her other school work.”

“Tutor? She’s seven.”

Henry looks vaguely insulted, and Alex resists the urge to ask him if he’s having a _big feeling_. “Yes, she is, and I’d like her to be able to do fractions by the time she gets to high school.”

“Hey, I follow the curriculum--”

“Yes, and she’s walking around with temporary tattoos all over her arms looking like she’s in an elementary school biker gang, so whatever you’re doing, please keep it up.”

They’re both standing now, glaring, though neither of them can recall when exactly it was that they got out of their chairs. Henry’s expensive suit is rumpled from having to squeeze himself into the feelings chair, and Alex’s cheeks are a dark pink. 

“I’m sorry, but I talk to your daughter every single day. Do you? Because hiring a tutor isn’t the same thing as spending time with her.”

Henry recoils, clearly having struck a nerve. Then just as quickly he straightens, juts his chin out definitely, and adjusts his tie all in one swift motion.

“I don’t believe this conversation is at all productive. We’ll continue our conversation at another time. Goodbye, Mr. Claremont-Diaz.”

Later, when Alex is sitting in Vice Principal Luna’s office, he’ll wonder if it’s too late to go back to his classroom and shove a pencil in his eye. For some reason, he can’t stop thinking about Henry, about the tightening of his jaw, the little vein that pops out of his forehead when he’s really angry. The slight quirk, just at the corner of his mouth. It’s all incredibly frustrating, and confusing, because he doesn’t think he’s ever had a worse first impression in his life. How could such a sweet little girl come out of...that? And who on earth would ever willingly have a child with him?

“He’s the third largest donor in the city,” Luna reminds him, leaning over with his palms on his desk and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. It’s not the first time Alex has been called to his office, and it won’t be his last. 

“We take his money, and then what?” Alex counters. “That means we have to answer to him? So what, you’re asking me to give up my integrity?”

Luna brings up a hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “No, Alex, I’m _ordering_ you to. We need his money.”

“So he pulls his donation. So what? I’ll raise the money! I’ll get a ragtag group of kids together! A shy girl with the voice of an angel, a Jewish kid with a keyboard, a kid who’s great at guitar but his dad doesn’t take an interest--”

“Are you really describing the cast of _School of Rock_ to me right now? Is that seriously what you’re doing?”

Alex shrinks, and he whispers, “Please don’t make me apologize.”

Luna looks unmoved. “You’re going to go to his office. You’re gonna say that you were wrong; say that you’re never gonna let the kids speak any language ever again. From now on, your classroom is fucking North Korea, whatever it takes to make sure he doesn’t pull the donation.”

Alex quirks an eyebrow. “Including or not including sexual favors? Because I’m not above that.”

Luna throws a pencil at him in response. 

On Saturday morning, Alex is regretting his existence now more than ever- head in his hands, slumped over the kitchen table while Nora and June eat their breakfast like all's right with the world. 

“Fuck,” Alex groans. “I hate groveling! I wouldn’t have lasted two seconds in the court of the Sun King. I think about that all the time.”

“You do?” Nora asks through a bite of french toast.

“Do you know how much I grovel on a daily basis?” June interjects. “It is literally my job. That’s why I make the most money.”

“That, my friend,” says Nora, pointing an accusatory strip of bacon at June, “is exactly the problem. Rich people have us right where they want us, sucking on the proverbial teet of capitalism. It’s why I don’t have a phone.”

June rolls her eyes. “You don’t own a cell phone because you have the credit score of a homeless ghost.”

Nora flaps a hand in her direction. “That’s irrelevant. Point is, Alex, fuck the system.”

“You see, I’d really, really like to, but he also might pull funding from the school.”

She shrugs and takes a bite of bacon. “Blame your period.”

“Or,” June interrupts again. “You could apologize. You know, like a normal human?”

“Nah,” Alex says. “I’m going with Nora on this one. Fancyman is going down.”

“Okay,” Alex says from the car. “I’m on my way to his office, and I have a speech I wrote for the Fancyman. I want to practice it.”

“Why are you listening to Nora?” June groans. “It’s a horrible idea.”

“Unhelpful. Anyway, I’m gonna start with a quote against social darwinism, then a discussion of the Gilded Age, the robber barons, the Great Society, how we ended up with a huge wealth disparity in this country, and then, I end with a Bluegrass version of Public Enemy’s _Fight the Power_. Thoughts?”

“Terrible.” The car makes an awful churning noise. “Jesus Christ, Alex, are you driving a lawnmower?”

“It’s my car--” he moans as the car starts to slow, and then comes to a halt in the middle of the road. “Fuck,” he says over the blare of angry horns. “My car stalled, can y’all help me come push it?” The answer from the other end is lost as Alex gets out of the car and desperately tries to push. It’s freezing out, he’s starving, and the people honking are not helping, and just when it can’t get any worse--

“Hello! Do you need some help?”

The familiar curling of vowels into an accent has Alex spinning around, nearly losing his balance against the car. But there, in another impeccably tailored suit, looking light a knight in goddamn shining armor...is Henry.

“Oh!” Alex says, dumbly. Then, “hi. My car stalled.”

Henry’s eyes flick up and down, over him, and then the car. “I can see that. My office is just right here, I was driving back and I thought you looked rather stranded. Do you need some help?”

“Nope!” Alex’s stubbornness answers for him. “Just gonna push it to the nearest gas station, it’s like a mile, I’ll be fine--”

But Henry is already typing away on his Blackberry- seriously, who owns a Blackberry anymore? -and without looking up, says, “The tow truck will be here in ten minutes.”

“Oh, no, Mr. Wales--”

“Henry,” he looks up from his phone with a sincere intensity, and Alex feels frozen. “Please.”

Alex shakes himself from his trance, a hand still on the car. “Mr. Wales, I can take care of myself. It’s how I was raised, I wasn’t raised with money so when something broke, we pretended it still worked. Some of my best memories are pushing this car around.” He knows he’s overselling it, but Henry is looking at him with this amused sort of smirk and that goddamn corner of his mouth is up, and his legs feel like jelly and his brain is mush. 

“And the tow truck is really generous really, but I- I need my car, and--”

“Let me help you.” And Henry reaches into his pocket, and pulls out his own keys. “Take mine.”

Alex nearly chokes on his own tongue. “What?”

“Take my car. Really, it’s no trouble.”

“Uh, I don’t know how to drive cars that work.” Henry, looking even more amused, simply drops the keys into Alex’s hand and leads him to the car with a guiding hand on the small of his back. Alex could faint. 

“You can drop it off tomorrow night. I’m having a party, you can come bring it by and enjoy the night. Here,” He opens the driver’s side door for Alex, and then frowns. “Mister Claremont-Diaz?”

“Alex,” he blurts out. “You can call me Alex.”

Henry smiles, genuinely, and his eyes crinkle just at the corners. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Alex. _Go_ is the pedal on the right; the one on the left is _stop_.”

Alex fakes a laugh, and then Henry is gone, and his car is being towed, and this car smells like leather and old money and ink, and all Alex can think is, _what the fuck?_

“And then,” Alex explains the next night as he’s getting ready, “he gives me the keys to his car, just hands me the keys, June! It’s just, so.. _.rich people.”_ June doesn’t speak, just smiles and nods, and Alex keeps fussing over his thrift store suit. “And you know what he’s doing? He’s taking back the power, so I have to go to his stupid party, where he’s probably going to try and hunt me for sport, and instead of standing up to him like I planned, I have to grovel.” He takes a long enough pause for June to speak, looking bemused from her perch on his bed. 

“Just a thought, “ she says. “What if he likes you?”

“Ugh,” Alex scoffs. “No, I hate him.”

“Alex. Darling. Love of my life. This guy is single, and sweet--”

“Sweet? No way! He’s not sweet, please, I’d never go for that guy.”

“Why?”

“Because! He’s the type of guy who...has a linen closet, and a towel warmer! You know me, I’m only attracted to guys who are afraid of success and don’t have bank accounts.”

June judges him silently, arms crossed over her chest. “Liam didn’t even own sheets. He slept on a pile of washcloths.” She pauses, and heaves a heavy, tired sigh. “Can I say something you’re not going to like?”

“No.”

“Maybe Henry intimidates you because you wouldn’t have to take care of him; because _he_ would take care of _you_ , and that scares you.”

Well. Okay, maybe she’s not completely wrong, but that doesn’t change the fact that Henry is the biggest jerk in the world. With his custom thousand dollar suits and entitled rich-boy accent, and those baby blue eyes that you could just drown in...nope. Absolutely not. Alex tightens his tie with a final flourish. 

“I’m going to that party, I’m going to return his car, and then I’m going to give him a piece of my mind. And that is _all._ ”


	2. Fancyman, pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As it turns out, that is not, in fact, all. 
> 
> An hour after his arrival at the party, Alex finds himself in Henry’s home office, pressed up against the solid oak door with Henry’s hands on his waist and his tongue in Henry’s mouth. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written smut before, please go easy on me! Shoutout to bleedingballroomfloor for the masterclass <3

As it turns out, that is not, in fact, _all._

An hour after his arrival at the party, Alex finds himself in Henry’s home office, pressed up against the solid oak door with Henry’s hands on his waist and his tongue in Henry’s mouth. 

Looking back on it, he guesses it’s kind of his fault. He’d shown up to the party- a cocktail party that he’s horribly underdressed for -and gone straight to find Henry with the intention to leave as soon as the interaction was over. Of course, Henry, the bastard, is wearing slacks and a button down, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and the way his ass looks in those pants is ungodly. It’s really unfair, how handsome he is, Alex thinks. The universe must be picking favorites. 

“Alex!” He had said with a bright smile. “So glad you could make it. The mechanic called, your car should be ready to be picked up by the end of the night.”

Alex had taken a deep breath, closed his eyes for a minute to steady himself. “First, Henry, I’d like to say thank you for everything with the car. Second...look, I’m not going to apologize. I know you donate a lot of money to the school, but Sophie is seven, and she’s creative and she’s amazing with Spanish, and it’s valuable for her to learn that. And I’m not going to grovel, I don’t care if you pull your donation--”

“Alex, Alex,” Henry held his hands up in a placating way, and there was a little wrinkle between his brows as he frowned that Alex desperately wanted to smooth. “You don’t have to apologize. I...I was raised a certain way. And when I adopted Sophie, I told myself I would never do the same to her. It’s just hard, when that’s the only thing you know. I should be the one apologizing- you’re Sophie’s teacher, and she loves you, and I should have listened to you.”

Alex looked up at Henry, looking beautiful and perfect and sympathetic, and something had melted. “Henry...Sophie loves you. All she talks about is how great her dad is. And she is a bright, and kind, and wonderful little girl; you don’t have to worry about if you’re raising her right. And I’m sorry for what I said, about the tutor--”

“No, Alex, you were right. She’s seven. And she obviously has a great teacher.” And he smiled, and took Alex’s hand and kissed the back of his knuckles, and now they’re here- Alex trapped between the door and Henry’s body, hands in Henry’s hair, feeling positively molten. 

“You,” Henry says between kisses pressed to the tender flesh of Alex’s neck, “are the most exquisite creature I’ve ever met.”

Alex grins impishly, and it widens when he rolls his hips experimentally and Henry gives a soft _oh_. Henry retaliates with a bite to the curve of Alex’s collarbone, and a small amused, “Tease.”

Alex moves his hands to Henry’s hair and uses the grip to pull his head back up and into another bruising kiss. Henry uses his hands on Alex’s hip to guide them away from the door until the back of Alex’s thighs hit the huge desk at the center of the room. Taking his hands from Henry’s hair, he uses them to push himself up to sit on the desk, and Henry immediately slots himself between Alex’s thighs, spreading his legs apart. Henry makes quick work of Alex’s belt, kissing his way down as deft fingers move, over his jaw, the column of his throat, the buttons of his shirt, until he’s pressing his lips, feather-light, just above the waistband of his boxers. 

Alex’s hands go back to Henry’s hair, tugging on soft golden strands as kisses are pressed to the insides of his thighs, and then finally, finally, his boxers are being pulled down. And there's Henry, in his thousand-dollar custom suit, on his knees in front of his expensive mahogany desk with the tip of Alex's cock in his mouth, and Alex doesn't know if he should close his eyes or take a picture. It is both infuriating and exhilarating that Henry is still fully clothed, the desire to see him naked clashing violently with a thing for men in really nice suits. Or maybe he just has a thing for H _enry_ in really nice suits.

Henry’s mouth is velvety and hot, and Alex thinks he might die right there when Henry swallows him down. It’s too much and not enough, and his fingers are gripping Henry’s hair tight as he bobs his head. The sound of it is obscene, and the way Henry is looking up at him beneath his eyelashes is downright pornographic, and it’s just so good he might explode. 

“Henry,” he gasps, sucking in a sharp breath as the tip hits the back of Henry’s throat. “if you don’t stop I’m gonna—"

With a jolt and a loud pop Henry takes his mouth off Alex, opting to press kisses to his knees before being hauled up to kiss Alex on the mouth. Alex can taste himself on Henry’s tongue, salty-sweet, but he doesn’t even mind because it’s Henry, and it’s Henry’s hands that are gripping his hips, and it will be Henry’s fingerprints that are left in bruises on his skin in the morning. 

Alex’s hands fumble to Henry’s belt, clumsily letting it drop open and pulling open the button of his dress pants. It should be a little unfair, that Alex is left in only his shirt and tie, but he can’t find the mind to care when he grabs Henry by the tie to pull him in closer. 

“Do you have--” Alex starts to ask, before he’s cut off by Henry’s teeth tugging at his earlobe. 

“Top drawer.” 

Alex opens the drawer blindly, finding after what feels like ages a slim bottle of lube and a condom. Reluctantly, he pulls away from Henry’s lips to rip the condom wrapper open with his teeth, raising a questioning eyebrow at Henry. 

“How do you want to do this?” 

The tips of Henry’s ears turn pink and he clears his throat once, twice. “Fuck me?”

It takes a minute for it to click in Alex’s lust-addled brain, but fuck if the image doesn’t send a shiver down his spine. He nods maybe a little too enthusiastically, and speaks too quickly. 

“Yeah. Yeah, okay, I’m cool with that.”

Henry kisses him again, gently this time, and shifts their bodies so that Henry is now the one against the desk. 

“How do you want me, love?” His voice is raw and sore-sounding, and Alex has to take a deep breath to ground himself before saying,

“Turn around for me?” His voice cracks a little, but Henry obediently turns around, bent over with his elbows on the desk, and fuck. 

Though it’s a shame to see the full suit go, it’s a sacrifice Alex is willing to make as he gets Henry’s pants around his ankles and sees those strong, muscular thighs and that perfect ass. He rolls the condom on himself and lubes up two fingers, kissing the dimples of Henry’s back as he slowly works him open. Henry keens beneath him, pushing back on the first finger, then harder when the second joins in. Alex curls them experimentally, pushes a little deeper, and Henry shudders as he brushes past his prostate. Alex works like that over and over, hitting that one spot until Henry is shaking and whispering please, please, please. And how could Alex refuse?

When he pushes into Henry, Alex thinks might have blacked out for a moment. It’s tight and hot, like Henry’s mouth but more, he puts one hand on Henry’s hip and buries the other in his hair as he pulls out a fraction just to push in until they’re flush against one another. 

Neither of them last very long, not with Alex bending down to whisper baby and sweetheart in Henry’s ear, not with the noises Henry is making that Alex is sure should be illegal. The sight of Henry coming while still halfway dressed in his expensive suit is not something Alex will be forgetting any time soon, and it doesn’t take long before he’s clutching harder at Henry’s skin and tumbling off the edge after him. 

After, when they’re spent and boneless and sweating in their suits, they lie on the couch in Henry’s office. Henry, with his chest flush against Alex’s back, an arm wrapped around his front, whispering praises in Alex’s ear and pressing chaste kisses to his hair, the back of his neck, and Alex, blissful and quiet for once, his usually buzzing brain empty of any thoughts that aren’t Henry. 

“You’re going to miss the rest of the party,” Alex says through a yawn. Henry presses a kiss to his shoulder and nuzzles his face there. 

“They won’t miss me; Sophie’s at my sister’s until tomorrow morning. We have all the time in the world.”

“Hm,” Alex hums. “Whatever shall we do.” 

Henry laughs, quiet and content, and tightens his grip minutely over Alex’s waist. 

“Go to dinner with me? Please?”

“Mm. Okay.” He snuggles a little deeper into Henry’s body, warmth washing over him as he yawns again. “But I expect more free cars in the future.”

They both laugh, and Henry places more kisses to Alex’s searing skin until they’re both asleep in each other’s arms. 

Later, after they’ve had dinner at a ridiculously expensive restaurant and Henry has driven Alex home in an equally expensive car, Alex gives him a kiss goodnight, and puts Henry’s number in his phone under the contact name, 

_Fancyman._


End file.
